


dont leave me behind

by orphan_account



Series: the stars are falling [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Instability, Protests, Regret, Sad, Suicide, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, shit ton of angst youve been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27569653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: minho sits on a roof and talks to the one he loved and lost.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: the stars are falling [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015845
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	dont leave me behind

**Author's Note:**

> this story touches on some sensitive topics, as mentioned in the tags. please please look at the tags and if youre not comfy with them, step away from here.

It was cold that night, frighteningly cold even for late November, yet Minho stood on top of a twelve-story building wearing only a thin piece of flannel. The shirt didn’t fit him, it tugged at his shoulders with a tear and the sleeves ended above his wrists, above the scars.

Minho didn’t really know what he was doing here, he just knew it wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not on the roof of a regulation trailer apartment, not on a Sunday and not when there was a crowd of angry fire-wielding protesters below him.

Not every Sunday was like this. 

Sundays were supposed to be the day he woke up after the city woke. They were supposed to be the days he prayed to the gods above for salvation. They were supposed to be the days he painted and ran and sang and danced and baked.

With  _ Jisung. _

_ Jisung. _

The name swam up from the darkest, deepest corners of his mind, dragging up a myriad of memories Minho didn’t want to remember. 

Not now. 

Minho shook his head, stepping closer to the dimming towers of lights in the sky and closer to the edge. 

They were skyscrapers, his mind told him. Full of people and the happy lives they lived with their loved ones. 

And now they were getting ready to sleep, or at least close their curtains and block out the world. Block out the repetitive chants from below, the flashing sirens and block out the war that was bound to erupt within minutes between those who were brave enough to take a stand and the military who had no choice but counter them with equal or greater force.

Minho couldn’t see the swarms of people clamouring below but he knew what it looked like. After all, he’d had plenty of first-hand experience on the streets.

The noise of the riot was loud enough to reach his own ears in a muted rhythm, the music made from the beats of a violent uprising. It was a song he had choreographed a dance to go with, one that he knew from heart but couldn’t bring his body to do.

For a few minutes, the sounds of the lawlessness that stirred under his feet and the gentle breeze of the autumn wind was all Minho could hear.

He sat down, his feet dangling over the edge of the roof, closed his eyes and let his mind fall under and under and under.

In that space, Minho forgot how he ended up on the roof of the building and forgot why he decided to put on a thin flannel shirt. They were decisions he had made unconsciously as he had left the house with no destination in mind.

He could hear his heart beat in time with the faraway ruckus and feel his breath press back against his face as the wind brushed by his hair.

Seconds passed and from behind, the quiet click of a lighter and the telltale whoosh of fire sounded out.

It was barely audible and Minho wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t actively seeking it out.

“You’ve been sitting there for quite some time.” A voice murmured softly from the shadows. “What’s on your mind?”

The sweet earthy scent of cloves and cinnamon reached Minho’s nose as he shifted in his perch up in the sky. 

“Nothing.” Minho leaned further over the edge. “Maybe the stars. Maybe you.”

The flint struck against the thin steel of the lighter again.  _ Click. _

“And why would you be thinking about me?” 

Minho turned around, looking into the irregular splotches of light on the roof. There was a flickering single light hanging above the door he had come through and it cast a soft orange hue over the expansive gravel flooring. The stars also hung above him but they were too far away, too small to bring clarity to his eyes.

“Maybe I miss you, Jisung.”

A short laugh broke out, piercing through the heavy air between them.

“And I’d say you’re stuck in the past.” Jisung brought the smouldering cigarette to his lips and gently blew out a suffocating cloud of herbs.

“Why am I here, Sungie?” Minho wondered out loud. “Why are we here?”

“Here on the roof? I don’t know, Minnie. Why don’t you tell me? Why did you come up here?”

Minho hummed as he fingered the tear in the flannel he wore. The threads were fraying and the hole was growing larger but he didn’t mind. 

“Our first mission. The one where I shot the mayor clean through the head and you blew up the stage.” 

Jisung whistled through his teeth.

“That was a bloodbath.”

“Mm. It was my first kill too. I never told you that though. My first kill and I wasted on some stupid politician who was probably already dying of heart disease.”

“I don’t remember my first kill.” Jisung remarked idly. “Think it may have been my parents but when you’re working with explosives, you don’t really know who’s life goes first. Could have been the janitor, could have been my dad.”

“You blew up my building too.” Minho’s eyes unfocused as the memory resurfaced and the details refined.

“Accident, schmaccident.” Jisung took another drag from the cigarette and released yet another burst of autumn spices into the air.

“But you came back and dragged me out.”

“What was I supposed to do? Leave you there to go down with the building?” 

“You saved me.” Minho breathed out.

“Like you wouldn’t do the same.”

“But you didn’t care. Why’d you do it?” 

Minho’s eyes sharpened as he honed in on Jisung’s indistinct figure.

“Lots of reasons; Chan giving me shit, losing a god-tier sniper, having your death on my conscience etc.” Jisung raised an eyebrow. “Want more?”

“You never cared about your body count.” Minho stated plainly.

“Doesn’t change the fact that the blood on my hands would have grown.”

“Don’t tell me that, everyone knows you never had a moral compass.”

“Until you came along.”

Minho stilled at that and silence filled the space between them again.

“You should have left me to die.” He started up again. “Then maybe we wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

“Minho,” Jisung drawled out. “Do you believe in fate?”

“When the times call for it, yes.”

“It’s written in the stars, love. Our end was determined ever since you pointed that gun at my head.”

Minho didn't say anything.

“We’ve done horrible things from our own volition. We’ve dropped bombs from the sky, destroyed cities, torn families apart and taken countless lives without even batting an eye at the ruin we caused. If the world wasn’t holding itself together by a single thread and if democracy was still a thing, we’d be sentenced to life in a prison by the judicial system. This,“ Jisung waved his hand around, leaving behind a thin trail of smoke, as to gesture at their current situation. “Whatever this is, is justice doled out by the heavens. They’ve watched us run rampant through their world and they’ve heard from the souls we sent up there about how heinous our crimes are. They’ve seen everything and judged us accordingly. You can’t change the decisions made by a divine power.”

Minho let out an unbelieving huff. 

“You can’t really think that.” 

“You’re right, it’s not my thoughts. They’re-“

“No, don’t say it.“ Minho interrupted abruptly. “Let me have this.”

Jisung said nothing as he inhaled one last time from his short cigarette before stubbing it out under his battered combat boots.

Minho glanced at the movement before turning back to stare out at the outline of the city.

“It’s dumb but sometimes I think we really did get the short end of the stick.” Minho whispered quietly but loud enough for Jisung to hear. “Maybe out there in some parallel dimension, we’re living happily ever after. We have a family, we have food, cats and we have happiness.”

“Do you know what happiness feels like?” Jisung asked carefully.

Minho smiled mirthlessly. 

“Sungie, I was never happy and I’m willing to bet the world that no one knows what pure joy feels like.”

“But you know what love feels like.”

“Love is… It’s different, I’m sure. Love is suffocating. In my dreams, happiness is-“

“It’s freedom.” Jisung finished. “Freedom from rules and expectations. It’s being yourself and doing what you want for yourself. It’s being untethered.”

“You always knew me well.”

The deafening crack of a flash bomb sounded out from below but none of them flinched.

“Why are you doing this?” Jisung ignored the commotion below. 

Minho didn’t answer, instead he opted to raise his hand towards Jisung.

He didn’t know why he did it or what he expected. Maybe Jisung would grab onto his hand and Minho would feel the steady pulse of the other but maybe Jisung would ignore his plea and Minho would let his hand drop listlessly.

A short second passed before Jisung stepped forward to gently grasp at Minho’s fingers. 

Minho looked up at Jisung’s dark eyes, darker than the shadows that threatened to swallow them whole as the moon continued its rotation. 

_ Had his eyes always been this dark _ , Minho wondered. 

Jisung’s touch was light, light enough that it would probably fly away if the wind blew hard enough, so Minho flipped his palm over and closed his hand over Jisung to make a fist enclosing the other’s slender fingers.

Even then, Jisung’s hand felt too soft and delicate. It was unlike the toughened soldier with calluses on the pads of his fingers and split knuckles Minho remembered, but he wasn’t going to let go of this fragment of his past.

Minho felt agony rising in his throat and his grip tightened just a bit.

But even that slight imperceptible change in strength was too much. 

Jisung’s touch disappeared from their interlocked hands and Minho was left holding nothing but air.

“Minho, why are you trying?” Jisung asked again.

“Jisung-“ His voice cracked and Minho could feel his eyes start to well up.

Jisung smiled softly but even with his blurry vision, Minho saw the melancholy behind it.

“Hannie.” The term of endearment he hadn’t said in so long rolled off his tongue easily. “I don’t know.” Minho admitted.

A single tear rolled down his cheek and Jisung reached out with his hand to wipe it away with a faint flick.

It kept on falling.

“Then why don’t you stop?” 

“I miss you.” Minho couldn’t keep the words from flying out of his mouth. “I miss you. I miss you.” He fell forward, grabbing blindly for Jisung to no avail. His hands hit the rough gravel with a scraping motion and his fists tightened around the small rocks. “I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.” The chant was replaced by the unstoppable force of cries. Minho’s body shook with each sob as he let out all the emotion he had bottled up for months.

Jisung crouched next to Minho’s trembling body.

“Love, you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t stop trying.” The scent of cinnamon and clove surrounded Minho. “It’s not going to work. Not with me. Not anymore.”

“I don’t care.” Minho hiccupped. “I just want you to come back.” His wobbling tear-glistened eyes met Jisung’s steady lightless eyes. “Come back, will you? Come back for me.”

“I can’t. You know that.” 

“Then I’ll come to you.” Minho declared, his eyes flashing dangerously. “If you won’t stay with me then I’ll go to you.”

He pushed his body up to a standing position with great effort and almost immediately, his head spun. His mind was fuzzy, his thoughts unclear except for one. 

_ Be with Jisung. _

Minho’s feet stumbled across the gravel to the edge of the roof where he stopped.

He pivoted around on his heel to face Jisung again. The air was heady as Minho breathed in again.

“Why did you leave?” He shouted over the sudden rush of wind. “Why’d you go?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” The mellow voice came from inside Minho’s head. “None of us did.”

“You did nothing.” Minho yelled back in fury. “You decided you were too good for this world. You gave up because you didn’t want to fight anymore.”

“There was nothing left to fight for.” Jisung answered quietly. 

“Nothing? You call the lives of millions nothing? What about the Rebellion?” The words were bitter but Minho kept on going. “You were the one who started it and then you deserted. At the very least, you could have tried. You are a coward, Han Jisung, nothing but a coward.”

The tears kept on falling as Minho laughed hysterically.

“I hoped. Hoped against all odds that you were anything more than that. But what good has that done?”

“What good has that done?” The voice echoed in his head.

“Absolutely nothing. And yet, I’m in love with you. I’m in love with a dead man and I can’t fucking move on.”

Minho took a step backwards, his heel stepping onto the small ledge, and he raised his arms in one last salute to the world. He let his head fall back, his eyes looking up at the stars as though they would reverse the fate he had received. 

He waited one second, two and then three seconds but nothing changed. He was still Lee Minho and he was still standing on the edge of the building, alive and breathing.

_ “I love you.” _ The memory flashed past his eyes in a brief fleeting second and his head snapped back down as if chasing after those three words.

A final smile graced Minho’s lips, nothing more than a faint tug at the corners of his mouth, as he said the words back into the void. 

“I love you.”

In a sense, it was a promise, one Minho didn’t know how to keep but felt right to make. Nothing else felt right though. Nothing had felt right since he had been left alone in this cruel world.

Moving purely on instinct and emotion, Minho took one more step back and fell over into the sky with nothing to hold him back. The air rushed past him as his body was pulled downwards by gravity. He dropped faster and faster as the ground came closer and closer. 

_ I’ll see you.  _

_ Soon. _


End file.
